“
G
ood evening,” Ruger said to Sticks.
She was sitting alone, away from the camp the Henchmen had set up. She was sharpening a dagger on a stone. The day had been long as they pushed over the rolling hills of Kingsland, trying to gain as much ground as they could. She nodded at him.
“May I sit?”
She shrugged.
Ruger planted himself beside her and leaned back on his hands and looked into the sky. “It’s a beautiful thing, seeing my stars again. In the other world, they are very different.” He cleared his throat. “Horace tells me that you have been second in command of the Henchmen, alongside him.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Yet you avoid your station.”
“It seemed to me that moment changed when you arrived. You and the other men are better acquainted.”
“True, and I’m happy to see them. But I need to get to know the rest of you as well. I imagine it has been very odd dealing with the same man who has shared many different personalities.”
She switched one dagger out for another from her bandolier. She ran the blade’s edge across the stone. “It is what it is. I do as I’m told.”
He nodded. “The other one, the one before Abraham, his real name was Eugene. You spent most all of your time with him, eh?”
“Intimately and unfortunately.”
“I am aware of his exploitation of the Henchmen. He dishonored this body, my body, and used the Henchmen like fish bait.” He balled up his fists, and his knuckles cracked. “I will kill that man.”
“Isn’t he in the other world?”
“Yes, but I’ll be going back. I don’t know when, but like the sands of an hourglass, the time for this is running out.”
She scraped her knife over the stone while stiffening at the same time. Ruger was right. He could sense it. She could sense it. Their mission was coming to an end.
Ruger unslung a backpack from his shoulder. It was Abraham’s. He unzipped the backpack and pulled an item out. It was a small card with a picture on it. It was a decent-looking man, clean shaven, cheeky, wearing a strange cap with a bill. He held a smooth club over his shoulder. “That’s Abraham. Had you seen that before?”
She slid her knife into her leather bandolier, set down the stone, and took the card. She squinted. “He looks a lot different.”
“Oh, that was a long time ago. He looks much worse now. Bearded and shaggy, and in very poor condition. It’s been very challenging to overcome the disadvantages of that body.” He dusted the hair from his eyes. “A broken body of a broken man.” He lifted a finger. “But he has heart.”
She flipped the card around and asked, “Why are you showing me this?”
“I thought you would want a good look at the man that you are in love with.”
“I’m not in love.” She flicked the card at Ruger. “Not with him, anyway.”
“No, but you are in love with the him in me. It’s a twisted scenario. I know something about that. I’m in love with the bride of my king.” He leaned his head down and sighed. “The only thing harder than war is love. War I understand, but love I don’t.”
“I guess Horace filled you in. I think the king is pretty mad at you.” She looked him in the eye. “He’s probably going to kill you.”
Ruger chuckled. “Yes, and yet I ride to save him.” He rubbed shoulders with Sticks. “I saw her first, you know. He snatched her away from me, though I do not blame him. I cannot wait for the moment when I cast my gaze upon my own daughter. All of these years, and I never knew.”
She drew her knees up to her chest and said, “I wouldn’t have told you either.”
“Yes, I don’t blame Clarann. Though I would have liked to have had a hand in raising my daughter. I hear that she is a fine sword.”
“Feisty like a raccoon too.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “That she gets from her mother. Anyhow, Sticks…” He picked up the card and put in inside the backpack. “Why don’t you hold on to this for Abraham.” He stood up. “And don’t be a stranger. I need your counsel the same as before. Rest well.”
She watched Ruger amble back toward the main camp’s fire. She cradled Abraham’s backpack to her chest. Ruger seemed to be everything the others thought him to be, an honest knight and compassionate leader. No wonder his men followed him with such fierce loyalty.
Sticks unzipped the backpack and fished out the card again. She took a long and hard look at the image. She traced the face with her finger. Who are you?
The image of the man wasn’t anything like the man she’d become accustomed to. She wondered what it would be like in Abraham’s world. Would I be out of place? I can’t make something like that work. Why would I want to? What’s wrong with me?
She tucked the card into one of her pockets. I need to forget about this. I need to let go.
She rubbed the brand on her chest. Once this is over, if I live, I no longer want to be a Henchmen. I want to be my own.
Sticks lay down on her bedroll and closed her eyes. She fell fast asleep. She’d never dreamed before, but she did that night. She saw Abraham fighting Ruger, each with a sword in hand. They were the same but different. Steel flashed. Thunder rolled. Ruger’s sword pierced Abraham’s heart in two.
“Wake up! Wake, Sticks! Wake!”
She sat straight up, gasping for breath.
Shades was in her face. The new dawn had come. “Time to move.” He helped her to her feet and swatted her behind. “Game on, girlie. Game on.”
Sticks rolled up her bedroll, fingers trembling. She couldn’t shake away the image of Abraham dying.
